Blindside
by TheMythicalGreninja
Summary: What if Dumbledore hadn't been able to save Harry when he fell off his broomstick?


**I don't own Harry Potter.**

 **Harry's POV:**

I was flying around on the Quidditch pitch, looking for the Snitch. Damn, this storm was something else. I had practiced in the wind and rain before, but nothing could ever compare to this. Every time I turned, I felt as though I would go flying off my broomstick. As far as I knew we were still ahead, but I knew I had to find the Snitch soon or risk getting even more soaked. It was already freezing out.

Suddenly, I spotted a tiny golden glimmer. Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Seeker, saw it as well. Simultaneously, we angled our brooms toward the golden light and shot forward. My Nimbus was faster, so I quickly overtook Cedric. I had just grabbed the Snitch when I felt the familar coldness sweep over me...

 _"Not Harry, not Harry, please, not Harry!"_

 _"Stand aside! Stand aside, girl!"_

 _"No-please-I'll do anything-"_

And then suddenly, I was falling, falling back down to earth...

 **Ron's POV:**

I stood in the stands, watching my best friend flying a hundred feet above the ground. It was raining really hard, so it was difficult to see him. Suddenly, Harry and that Diggory bloke started shooting off in the same direction. I couldn't really tell, but I assumed they had spotted the Snitch.

Harry was miles ahead-okay, well not exactly miles, but he was clearly ahead. I was standing up and yelling for him along with my other best friend, Hermione Granger.

"Go Harry!" I yelled.

"Get the Snitch!" Hermione cheered.

Then, without warning, a dementor appeared right in front of Harry. I knew instantly this was going to be trouble; Harry had already collapsed from a dementor attack once. And this time, Professor Lupin wasn't around to save him.

I was just about to yell for help when I saw Harry fall off his broom.

After that, time just seemed to slow down.

Hermione and I watched, helpless, as our best mate tumbled ten...twenty...thirty...forty...fifty...sixty...seventy...a hundred feet to the ground below. He hit the ground, and didn't move again.

In an instant, the entire stadium was in an uproar. Everyone, it seemed, was rushing down from the bleachers to see if Harry was okay. I thought I even saw one or two Slytherins getting out of their seats.

"Ron, come on!" Hermione screamed, yanking my arm. "Come on!"

I snapped out of it. Right, Harry needed us. Together, Hermione and I ran down to the pitch, towards the spot where our best friend was lying still. Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, and Madam Hooch were all standing around him, along with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They turned towards me and Hermione as we came to a stop. As soon as I saw the looks in their eyes, I knew, but I had to hear the truth anyway.

"What happened?" I asked. "Is Harry going to be okay?"

Dumbledore looked at me sadly. "Mr. Weasley...I'm sorry, but I'm afraid young Harry here has broken his neck."

Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth and started crying. For a moment, I was too shocked to say or do anything. Then, suddenly, my voice came back to me.

"But...we can fix him, can't we?" I said. "He's still going to be okay, right?"

"Mr. Weasley...there's nothing we can do for Mr. Potter anymore," McGonagall said gently.

"No," I whispered. "No, you're lying. There's a way. There has to be."

As if to prove my point, I got down and started feeling Harry's wrist for a pulse. There was none. In that moment, I knew McGonagall had been telling the truth. Feeling numb, I let go of my best friend's hand. That was when I noticed the Snitch clasped firmly in his palm.

Harry had caught the Snitch. We had won. And none of it mattered.

My best friend was dead.

 **Hermione's POV:**

I stood there, feeling helpless as Harry's body was carried away by Dumbledore and Madam Hooch. Professor McGonagall looked at me and Ron sympathetically and asked if we would like to stay with Harry for a while. I could only nod and follow her numbly as she lead us away to the hospital wing.

When we arrived, the first thing I saw was Harry lying on one of the beds, too peaceful to be asleep. I had tried to stay strong, but as soon as I saw my best friend's body clearly for the first time, I broke down and started sobbing.

"Why?" I cried, to no one in particular. "Why did he have to go?"

Ron put his arms around me, comforting me. He didn't say anything, and I didn't want him to. There were no words that could ease the pain. Harry was gone. And all because of a stupid dementor.

 **Remus' POV:**

I could tell something was wrong when I woke up after my transformation and saw Dumbledore in my office. The headmaster would never come to my office the day after a full moon unless something was terribly wrong.

"What happened, sir?" I asked.

Dumbledore sighed and gestured for me to take a seat. I did so, never taking my eyes off of Dumbledore's face.

"Remus, I am afraid I have some bad news," Dumbledore said gravely.

"What is it?" I asked, fearful of the answer.

"As you know, yesterday was Harry's first Quidditch match." I nodded. "Well, the dementors decided to attack the game. Harry, unfortunately, met one a hundred feet above the ground."

"And?" I whispered.

"Remus, I am ever so sorry, but Harry is dead," Dumbledore said softly. In that moment, I felt everything inside me shatter.

Two weeks later, we were all sitting in the pew for Harry's funeral. I could barely hear a word that Dumbledore, or any of the others, spoke. My mind was numb as I stared at the casket in front of me. Was this what it was like to lose a child? How could anyone bear this pain?

Whatever physical damage Harry's body had suffered in the fall had been fixed up. Indeed, had I not known better, I would have thought that he was simply asleep.

After the service was over, I lingered there until everyone had left. Once I was alone, I fell to my knees in front of Harry's grave. The tears I had been holding back for the past two weeks spilled down my cheeks as I apologized, over and over, for not being there for him for twelve years.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I cried, running my hand over the patch of ground where Harry now lay. "I'm sorry I left you too. I'm sorry I didn't try harder to be a part of your life."

I swallowed and looked up at the sky. "Harry...I will miss you every day of my life," I whispered.

I was about to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I looked over, however, no one was there. But the comforting presence never left. It was then that I knew, somehow, that Harry was safe with his parents. I smiled slightly at the thought of what James was probably doing to the poor boy.

Even though Harry was gone, he was still watching over us. They all were. And I hoped beyond hope that one day, I would see them again.

 **Harry James Potter**

 **July 31, 1980 to October 5, 1993**

 **May your spirit continue to fly**


End file.
